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On The Bleakness Of My Lot - Emily Dickinson
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On The Bleakness Of My Lot Emily Dickinson

On The Bleakness Of My Lot - Emily Dickinson
On the bleakness of my lot
   Bloom I strove to raise.
Late, my acre of a rock
   Yielded grape and maize.

Soil of flint if steadfast tilled
   Will reward the hand;
Seed of palm by Lybian sun
   Fructified in sand.
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